That Old Feeling
by Bob The Other Zombie
Summary: The story of how Dean and Seamus fell in love, as told by a 1937 classic.


**A/N: A little something because I've been burning myself out with too many longer projects lately. The characters are JK Rowling's, the song originally belonged to Sammy Fain and Lew Brown.**

* * *

The year is 1989 and Dean is bored out of his mind.

He doesn't remember the exact details, but he remembers the night, one of those hot, stagnant nights where it feels like summer will last forever. He's lying in bed, doing whatever he used to do before he got his Hogwarts letter- reading, maybe, or staring at the ceiling, or, more than likely, drawing rough depictions of football players to hide under his mattress- and listening to his tinny radio when he hears Frank Sinatra sing "That Old Feeling" for the first time.

To be honest, Dean isn't all that impressed by it, and if this night were any other night, he wouldn't have paid the song much mind. But this night was that particular night, with each warm second lasting a lifetime, and Dean is so bored that he actually listens. He doesn't realize it, but he absorbs the song, lets it flow in and out of him as easily as a breath.

Then, the song ends, and the moment is gone. Time starts moving again, Dean's pencil breaks, and soon enough his mother calls up the stairs for him to go to sleep. All that's left of the moment is a memory, quickly buried under thousands of others. But Dean remembers the night, and he remembers the song.

* * *

The year is 1991 and Dean is just getting settled into Hogwarts.

He and Seamus are lying in his bed, elbows and knees brushing up against each other, trying to see if they can get his radio to work through all of the castle's magic. They've been asking around, trying to learn some tricks from the older kids, but so far, all they can get are a few notes here and there, and a whole lot of static. It's lucky that they're alone in the room or he's sure one of the other boys would've complained by now.

And then, finally, they get something- for a moment, Frank Sinatra replaces the buzzing. Dean only faintly remembers the song, but the sheer familiarity of it among all the new sensations of Hogwarts is enough that he feels suddenly fond of it. He drops his hands from the radio dials, hoping the sudden clarity will last long enough for them to hear the whole song. It does.

Seamus turns to him and grins. "This is good."

Dean can't help but smile back. There's always been something so infectious about Seamus's smile, the joy in his voice, and it really is a good song. "Yeah. Told you Muggle music's better."

After that, Seamus shoves him, and he shoves back, and they both nearly break the radio falling off the bed, but Dean is laughing and the tight knot of homesickness in his chest has loosened. He has friends here, good friends like Seamus. Maybe he can last seven years after all.

* * *

The year is 1994 and Dean is hopelessly in love with Parvati Patil.

It's one of those desperate kinds of love, the ones people only get when they're younger and haven't experienced too many serious relationships yet. Everything is Parvati, her beautiful sleek hair, her sly smile, her kindness and sense of humor, the way she glides through the hallways as though she were royalty. Dean has never experienced this kind of infatuation before, and so he lets it consume him, sketches her constantly, sits close to her in class, brings extra quills and supplies in case she needs any, and annoys Seamus half to death with how much he won't shut up about her.

Seamus doesn't understand it- he acknowledges that Parvati is attractive, but he doesn't get why Dean won't just do something about it, especially with the Yule Ball coming up. Seamus even starts to flirt with Lavender, partially because he sort of likes her, partially because it means she and Parvati hang out with the two of them more. But even with Parvati's increased proximity, Dean still can't get the words out. He's had many casual conversations with her, about the tournament and Quidditch and professors and other inconsequential things, but he can't seem to say anything important.

And then Harry Potter asks her to the Yule Ball. Dean knows it's over now, he's seen how Parvati giggles whenever Harry looks at her. He feels like his world is ending- where is he supposed to put all of that wasted emotion? He's lying in bed, again, staring at the ceiling and imagining Harry embarrassing himself at the ball when "That Old Feeling" comes on the radio once more.

This time, Dean really listens, listens to the lyrics of the song itself. It should tear him up inside, because this is exactly how he feels about Parvati. Instead, he almost feels comforted. Someone else understood the way he was feeling. Someone else had been through this before. He is half smiling, half feeling like he wants to cry when he hears footsteps coming down the hall.

Dean bolts up in bed, not wanting one of the others to catch him like this, but it's only Seamus.

"Are you seriously lying here listening to love songs on the radio?" Seamus says, frowning.

"Yeah." Dean flops back down. Then, in a way Seamus will mock for years afterwards, he adds, "It helps. They feel the same way."

Seamus snorts. "Get up."

"No." Dean throws his forearm over his eyes.

"Get up." Seamus reaches over Dean and shuts off the radio. "You cannot just lay here crying over Parvati like some tragic hero." He grabs Dean's wrists and pulls him to a sitting position.

"I'm not crying."

"You might as well be." Seamus squats so they are eye-to-eye, still holding onto Dean's wrists. "Look, I've got an idea. You know what girls like?"

"What?"

"Quidditch players." Seamus grins, the smile that usually precedes some sort of explosion. "You know what I think? Forget Parvati, and forget Harry, and forget the Yule Ball. There's no Quidditch this year, this is a golden opportunity."

Dean isn't sure exactly what Seamus is talking about, but Seamus is excited, and Seamus's excitement has always been contagious. Despite everything, he begins to feel a warm bubble of hope in his chest. "What do you mean?"

"Let's learn Quidditch, while no one's using the field." says Seamus. "Let's become perfect Quidditch players, and then try out as soon as half of the Gryffindor team leaves in two years, and then we'll be swimming in women. No need to worry about Parvati, you'll have all the girls you want. Come on, we're moderately attractive, we're both pretty athletic, we like Quidditch, we could do it."

And Dean doesn't say "but it's the middle of winter" or "it'll take us years to get as good as them" or "how are we going to practice with just two of us" because it's Seamus and he loves the way Seamus's face lights up when he's excited. "Sure. Let's do it."

Seamus's resulting celebration makes Dean laugh, and the hours they spend together on the Quidditch pitch are some of his favorite Hogwarts memories, even if it doesn't amount to much in the end.

* * *

The year is 1997 and Dean isn't sure how he's going to leave Hogwarts.

It's one of the last few weeks of the year, one of the last few innocent weeks, when all Dean has to worry about was getting over his breakup with Ginny and exams. He and Seamus and Lavender and Parvati have just ended one of the final evenings all four of them will spend together. Dean and Seamus are sitting in the common room, still slightly tipsy, listening to the radio and wistfully discussing how soon next year's graduation seems, when "That Old Feeling" starts playing again.

And this, this is the moment Dean will remember for the next year on the run, the moment when he should've said something to Seamus, should've done something, because either of them could die so easily and this moment really was his last chance.

Frank Sinatra starts crooning, and they fall silent, both listening to the lyrics this time. Their eyes catch. Dean licks his lips, hesitates. Glances down towards Seamus's mouth. They're sitting so close on the couch, too close, hands and thighs and sides resting against each other. It's warm, comfortable, and time seems to freeze once more.

Dean can see it in Seamus's eyes that they're both feeling this- this whatever it is between them. It's been there for years, hovering around them, some sort of warmth that Dean can't quite explain. In these past few weeks, however, things seemed to have intensified, with the two of them finally single at the same time and the growing awareness that their time at Hogwarts is drawing to an end. And now, here in front of the fire, Dean can feel it about to accelerate once more. There is nothing that can stop this, he thinks, and he starts to lean in.

"Seamus?" says Hermione.

Seamus twists away from him to face her. "Yeah?"

Dean closes his eyes and turns back towards the fire, taking a deep breath through his nose as Hermione and Seamus discuss some borrowed book or something equally unimportant. His heart is still pounding, and Frank Sinatra is still singing, but by the time Seamus has promised to return Hermione's book tomorrow, the moment is gone. A new song plays on the radio.

"Guess we should get up to bed soon?" Seamus says, tone a bit too cheerful.

And here, again, is where Dean should've said something. But it's just like Parvati in fourth year- he can talk about anything and everything with Seamus, except this. Because even when they've been dating other people, there's always been something. And even when they've fought over little things, they've never gone a day without talking. And when Dean had a bad accident in Potions his fifth year, Seamus had to be kicked out of the hospital wing by Madame Pomfrey, or so Lavender told him afterwards. They've always been together.

Foolishly, Dean assumes they always will be. There will be other moments, he thinks, other times to address this when they're not so tipsy and he's not so scared. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's a good idea." Dean stands, picking up the radio. "We've got to be up early to study for those exams, you know."

And he can almost swear there's something a bit disappointed about Seamus's responding chuckle as the other boy rises to follow him.

* * *

The year is 1998 and Dean is alive.

He's standing in the dinky little flat he's been able to afford with the war reparations the Ministry's given him, contemplating all the dishes he has to do. It was good to have people in the house and good to see Parvati and Seamus again, but their gatherings are always a little quiet now. Lavender was the liveliest one out of the four of them, and without her, they've become a shadow of themselves.

Seamus and Parvati are still struggling. Dean is too, but in different ways. It's hard to adjust- he's gone from a life of constant paranoia, of whatever food he can find, of fear and loneliness and never knowing if he'll survive the day, to...this. Living in a small flat on a tiny street, trying to figure out what the hell to do with his life now. Still waking up in the middle of the night at any slight noise, still getting rushes of adrenaline whenever any stranger looks at him the wrong way. He doesn't know what to do anymore, whether to go back to Hogwarts to help rebuild, or to find some kind of other job.

Seamus and Parvati aren't too keen on returning to Hogwarts. They apparently got some bad memories of the place during their seventh year there, and with the number of new scars Seamus has, Dean can believe it. But getting a job? Dean doesn't even know what he wants for a career. He never really spent too much time considering it during school, thinking he had all the time in the world to figure that out, and when he was on the run, he honestly never thought he'd survive the end of the war.

Seeing Seamus and Parvati has helped, some. Even if they've all been scarred by their experiences, it's still nice to have something familiar to hold onto. It's easier to talk to them than his own family- even if his mother was never directly targeted, Dean still feels guilty for what could've happened to her, and for abandoning her for a year. Parvati and Seamus understand why he left, and they've been through horrible things, too.

Dean is switching on the radio to make the chore of dishes go faster when there's a whoosh in his fireplace. He immediately tenses, grabbing for his wand **,** but it's only Seamus who comes through the doorway.

"Hey, did you forget something?" Dean asks, because Seamus is just standing there, staring at him.

"No." Seamus says, and, like magic, "That Old Feeling" begins playing on the radio.

Dean sets down the plate and towel, hands shaking. They've been given another chance after all. He's not sure what to do here, if they're supposed to talk or what- they hadn't really gotten much time alone since the Battle of Hogwarts- but Seamus has already made his decision, apparently, striding towards him with clear intentions, and Dean closes the distance, grabbing onto Seamus's shoulders and kissing him like he should've done so long ago.

There is passion in this kiss, all the weight of all the emotions that have built up between them over the years- the warmth and friendship and love, the fear for each other during the war, the impatience, the long separation, all of the missed opportunities, and when Dean pulls away, Seamus is practically crying. He wraps his arms around Dean. "Don't ever leave me again."

"I won't, Sea." Dean says, rubbing Seamus's back. He closes his eyes. "I won't."

* * *

The year is 1999, and Dean is alone.

He's lying on the floor of his crappy flat, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the radio, like he did way back when he was heartsick over Parvati. Only it's not Parvati he's missing this time, and there's no Seamus to come and shake him out of his stupor with some Quidditch. He's screwed that all up, and he's lost Seamus, both his friendship with the other man and this new thing they had discovered recently, the thing Dean had kept carefully unemotional until Seamus had grown sick of it.

"I'm not just some shagging buddy." he'd said, eyes hard as they bored into Dean. Dean was apologizing, like he was always doing lately. He couldn't do anything right, couldn't adjust to his new (Muggle, crappy) job, couldn't keep up with housework, couldn't do anything anymore and didn't want to. But Seamus wouldn't listen."You can't just cut me off like this!"

Ah, yes, cutting people off was the one thing Dean had been doing well lately. It had started with the few work acquaintances he'd managed to gain- easy as refusing invitations, refusing to talk, explaining it away to himself by saying they just couldn't understand what he'd been through. It had spread to his family, and several Hogwarts friends, and when Parvati told him off for that, Parvati became the next victim. For a while, Seamus had been his one source of warmth in his life, the one thing he clung onto to keep himself from completely drowning, but now Seamus was angry with him, and Dean wasn't even sure if it was worth the effort anymore. Seamus deserved better, anyways.

And Dean knows he shouldn't have done it, knows he shouldn't have said the things he did to get Seamus to leave him, but really, it was best for everyone. Seamus is recovering, and Dean's still stuck, moving neither forward or backwards, just lost.

He just hadn't expected it to hurt this much, worse than any heartbreak over Parvati or Ginny or any other girl. Dean feels like his chest is splitting open, ribs separating and stretching apart. He has no desire to get up from this floor, or to keep going to work and taking care of himself and pretending like any of it matters anymore. Dean may as well be dead for all the use he is to anyone right now. He doesn't want to get better, he doesn't want to do anything, he just wants to sleep off the alcohol he's imbibed tonight, and then sleep some more.

And then that damn song comes on the radio.

Dean doesn't have the strength to get up and chuck the radio out the window, so he listens to it, every horrible word. It's not a comfort this time, it just drives the knife in further, reminding him of Hogwarts and home and Seamus and everything he's lost throughout the years. He curls up into a ball, feeling a sob well up in his throat. If there were any justice, Dean thinks, this would be the end of him, some freak accident would happen and the house would fall in on him and he would die right here. He wouldn't have to suffer or hurt anyone anymore, he could just be done with it all.

The song plays on merrily with its familiar chords, and the moment stretches on and on. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and wishes for it to end. And then, magically, it does.

Dean breathes in, breathes out as a new song comes on the radio. He clenches his fist around the bottle and contemplates taking another swig, but it's empty. He will have to stand to get more.

He pushes himself up to a sitting position, and contemplates the mess he's made of his kitchen in the past few weeks. He hasn't done any dishes in weeks, and he's stopped using a garbage can, just dropping trash on the floor instead. Dean's reasonably sure he's got mice living with him now.

He stands up fully, wondering where he left his wand- he hasn't used it in a few days. It wouldn't be much help now, though, as Dean had never been good at cleaning spells. Ted Tonks had tried to teach him one slow day, but Ted Tonks had been murdered soon afterwards. The memory stings, as it always does, but for some reason, it's not so bad now.

Dean bends down, picks up some of the garbage near his feet, and tosses it into the trashcan. He's got a long way to go before he can make the house liveable again, but it's something to do. The purposefulness of it burns in his chest the way Seamus's old ideas used to. It's not happiness, far from it, but it's resolve, and Dean is glad to have it back.

* * *

The year is 2015.

Dean's in his bathrobe in the kitchen of his new place, trying to figure out which of the boxes might have bedding in it. He and Seamus had just barely gotten all of their stuff moved here before night, and nearly went to sleep before remembering that they had no sheets. Dean doesn't want to unpack tonight, but since they hadn't labelled any of their luggage, there really doesn't seem to be any other option. He opens a few boxes and discovers his old radio. It's amazing how much it's survived. Dean can't resist setting it on the counter and turning it on.

"Dean?" Seamus asks from the entryway. He's shirtless, wearing only his usual nauseatingly green boxers. "Did you find them?"

"Not yet." Dean uses his wand to levitate a few boxes down towards the ground. "We really should learn to label things."

Seamus stops yawning for a moment to grin at him. "That takes all the fun out of it."

"Yeah, well, you can have fun helping me look, then." says Dean. He straightens up, stretching his arms out wide to work out some of the cricks age has put in his shoulders. "If worse comes to worse, we can just sleep on a bare mattress."

"You can be my pillow." Seamus murmurs as he squats down to help Dean look.

They work in silence, and Dean knows they're both equally exhausted about now. It's been a hectic few months for them, even before they bought a new flat together _-_ once Ireland had voted to legalize same-sex marriage, they had immediately taken two weeks off work to go get married and have an impromptu honeymoon. They'd been married by the Ministry already, of course, but Dean grew up a Muggle, and he was glad to be married in both worlds. Besides, the Statute of Secrecy prevented him and Seamus from inviting their Muggle relatives to their Ministry wedding, so it was nice to have a second celebration.

Dean's so tired, it doesn't even register at first when "That Old Feeling" starts playing on the radio. It's Seamus who notices and straightens up with a grin. "Isn't this...?"

Dean blinks at him, standing up to meet him, and only then does he realize. "Yeah." he says, smiling.

Seamus holds out his arms in the position McGonagall taught them way back before the Yule Ball, and for a moment Dean assumes he's joking. Seamus's grin grows wider. "Come on."

"We should be trying to sleep." says Dean, but he steps forward anyways, taking one of Seamus's hands and putting his other arm around Seamus's waist. They sway back in forth in their little kitchen, and Dean almost laughs at the absurdity of it, but then, as he and Seamus lock eyes, the song hits him, really hits him. In a moment, he feels like he's been transported back- to their first kiss, the fireside sixth year, to Parvati Patil, to first year at Hogwarts, to the unimaginable time before Dean had ever met Seamus. To the moment, years ago, when he lay alone on his kitchen floor, thinking he'd never see Seamus again. Dean wraps his arms around Seamus's neck, pulling his husband closer, breathing him in.

And this time, when he feels like his chest is splitting wide open, it doesn't hurt- or, rather, it hurts, but it's a beautiful kind of pain, full of an overwhelming amount of joy. He is here, and Seamus is here, and whatever might happen, they have this moment, and that is more than enough.

 _I saw you last night and got that old feeling_

 _When you came in sight, I got that old feeling_

 _The moment that you danced by I felt a thrill_

 _And when you caught my eye my heart stood still_

 _Once again I seemed to feel that old yearning_

 _Then I knew the spark of love was still burning_

 _There'll be no new romance for me, it's foolish to start_

 _Cause that old feeling is still in my heart_

 _There'll be no new romance for me, it's foolish to start_

 _Cause that old feeling is still in my heart_


End file.
